


Revealed

by brage



Series: Revealed [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical, Medical Examination, Not medical kink, Sherlock Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brage/pseuds/brage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A big, fat clue bus arrives and hits John in the face.  </p><p>More awkward situations and conversations about sex.  John doesn't consider himself to be slow on the uptick but, God, he was so wrong!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had such a great response to the first two stories in this series. My apologies for the long wait for the final part. raebidet has been so patient but keeps reminding me that I really should keep writing. Thank you for the inspiration. For a long time, this story just would not come to me. I'm so glad you kicked me into gear on it. Thanks!
> 
> This part will have two chapters. I'll post the final bit next week. Sorry, but RL starts in the morning, sadly.

Sherlock had taken his own stitches out of his hand a few days later. John had brought home a removal kit from work and announced his intention to remove them, but Sherlock lifted his hand in the air, not taking his eyes off of his laptop long enough to acknowledge John and simply said "already done" before he went back to work with whatever research he had been doing.

  
"Right. Okay." John shrugged. He really didn't like it when Sherlock took medical business into his own hands. Mostly he was worried about him ignoring major signs but he supposed a minor thing like hand stitches wasn't that big of a deal so he let it go. "I probably should've given you a tetanus booster. I'll bring one home tomorrow."

  
"Already done."

  
"Really?" John said doubtfully. "You've already had a booster? From who then? I thought you didn't have a GP."

  
"Mycroft."

  
"Mycroft? What does he ..."

  
"He didn't deliver the medication. Anthea injected it. Mycroft ordered her to do it. Obviously." He dug a piece of paper that looked an awful lot like a vaccination record out of his pocket and handed it over to John.

  
John nodded. Everything was definitely in order. "How did Mycroft know you injured your hand?"

  
"There is very little Mycroft doesn't know."

  
"And he just took it upon himself to vaccinate you," John said indignantly. "He's not a doctor. Anthea is not a doctor."

  
Sherlock looked at John with confusion. John noticed Sherlock and decided he had to reign in his anger and stop feeling like it was solely John's responsibility to handle Sherlock's medical care. He supposed Mycroft had probably been handling simple things like this for a long time, given Sherlock's history and the fact Mycroft could probably have access to any sort of vaccine he needed with a simple phone call. Hell, Sherlock was probably vaccinated against Dengue Fever and African sleeping sickness just because Mycroft was over protective that way with his brother. Whatever. It was fine. Sherlock was taken care of. That was what was important.

 

 

  
A month later and John hadn't had to treat Sherlock for any injuries at all. If anything, Sherlock had become more careful than ever. He actually left the tracking down of criminals to Scotland Yard and turned down the chases through back alleys and leaping from roof to roof. It was BORING. He actually stopped bringing toxic substances into the flat altogether. It was an obvious work around for their deal about not letting injuries go without proper treatment.

  
John thought about Sherlock's issue during his medical exam and then his hand injury. Treating his injuries hadn't been an issue before John found out about the medical kink Sherlock obviously had, but he hadn't really known Sherlock all that long beforehand. He had to chalk up this new-found safety-mindedness to Sherlock's 'problem'. Sherlock was embarrassed and he didn't want to be caught out like that anymore even though he had explained to Sherlock that it was fine--no big deal. Everyone has their things that make them go, but it was another issue to be caught outright. John supposed he understood and it really was none of his business. It's not like their friendship was based completely on Sherlock's gravitation toward danger. Yes, it was boring but he was happy his friend was staying away from danger and away from being injured.

 

 

John was already on his way to meet Sherlock at the crime scene when he received a call from Lastrade. The semi-panicked voice made him anxious to get there sooner and he told the cabbie in a very curt voice to "step on it." When he arrived he heard Sherlock yelling "For God's sake" and "idiot" a lot. He was apparently conscious so that was good. The gathered crowd of Yarders parted to allow John through.

  
"There you are." Lestrade sounded relieved.

  
John took in the scene quickly. "What happened?" as he knelt down in front of his freind lying flat on the ground with a bloody towel wrapped around his thigh. 'Well, someone knows first aid' he thought as he took in the young, female, apparently new, constable who was holding Sherlock's head tightly telling him he should remain still after such a fall because of possible spinal injury.

  
"I fell two feet. My legs are obviously working, I'm still breathing and I did not hit my head. Please let go of me and do stop helping your brother study for his medic license." He stopped when he noticed John in his line of sight. "Ah, my doctor is here. Doctor trumps you. John tell her to let go of my head!"

  
John looked to the young girl. "I think it's okay to let him go. I'll keep his spine safe. Promise."

  
She huffed and walked away.

  
"He won't let me call an ambulance, of course, but that leg is bleeding pretty good, right?" Lestrade said kneeling down to talk to John.

  
"Looks like the bleeding has mostly stopped," John assessed when he removed the cloth to have a look. "No ambulance. I'll treat him at home." He gave Sherlock a knowing wink.

  
Sherlock thinned his lips in anger. "Wrong!" Sherlock slumped back on the ground once more. "Lestrade, I'll go to A&E"

  
"What?" Lestrade and John both said at once.

  
"You heard me, call an ambulance. I'm going to A&E. John, text my brother and tell him not to come. You know if me and an ambulance are within 30 yards of one another he shows up."

  
Lestrade shrugged and went to call an ambulance. John knelt next to Sherlock's head and started to examine Sherlock while trying to talk to the man discreetly.

  
"Look, the nature of your injury is very close to ... well let's just say it might be a bit embarrasing when they start to examine you."

  
Sherlock huffed and turned his head away from John in an obvious sulk.

 

 

  
Thankfully, Sherlock had the forsight to remove his own coat before the ambulance showed up. They did cut away any clothing that was in the way of doing a proper assessment of his wounds and also to started an IV in his arm. Sherlock was annoyed they wouldn't allow him to remove his favorite purple shirt because of the "spine precautions". That young, new constable looked smug when they loaded Sherlock onto a gurney with a full neck brace and back board. John helped them load Sherlock into the back of the ambulance and told Sherlock he'd meet him at A&E.

  
"No, you're not going anywhere. Get up here and ride with me. You don't leave my side," Sherlock demanded.

  
"All right, all right." John turned to the medic, glanced at the woman's name badge and smiled at her, "Maggie, he gets car sick. Violently car sick. Curls up into fetal position at the mention of any four-wheeled vehicle."

  
"Especially ones with sirens," Sherlock added helpfully.

  
"Mind if I ride along then?"

  
Maggie rolled her eyes. "You only had to ask. Get in."

  
John was surprised that Sherlock's 'problem' hadn't surfaced at all. The medics had to cut away his trousers all the way up to his groin to get the material out of the way. They had manhandled him and examined him thoroughly.

  
Once the vehicle was moving, Sherlock looked directly at John but asked, "Maggie, how is the bleeding? Perhaps you should move the bandage and have a look."

  
"No, we don't remove the bandage because it might break up the clot that's already formed and start it bleeding again. We'll see about it when we get to hospital."

  
"Hmm... I'm feeling a bit short of breath." Sherlock gave a shallow cough to add to the effect. John knew he was bullshitting but wondered what the hell he was playing at.

  
Of course, Maggie got out her stethoscope and opened Sherlock's shirt, placing the diaghragm of the instrument here and there on his chest. Then she tugged at more buttons and pulled the material apart completely, searching Sherlock's torso for injury, adding sticky electrode pads to his chest and hooking him up to the cardiac monitor.

  
When Maggie was turned toward the EKG machine, John mouthed "what are you doing?" to Sherlock.

  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "John, I'm so hot, can you please remove the blanket from my legs."

  
While Maggie was busy yammering on about fever and risk for sepsis, John rolled his eyes and removed the blanket. Sherlock motioned toward his trousers with a flourish in an obvious effort to prove his point to John.

 

 

  
In the hustle from ambulance to A&E, John had a moment to ask, "Sherlock, what the hell was that about? You are fine, right?"

  
"Of course, I'm fine. I'm proving a point to you." He lifted his blanket once more.

  
John took the edge of the blanket and put it back into place. "Yes, fine. I got it but that's not ... obviously it wasn't an issue." John shook his head. "Nevermind all that. Let's just finish this and get home, all right?"

  
"What do you mean it wasn't an issue? Do you think I have a medical kink or not? Was that not proof that I don't?"

  
John looked around anxiously. "Shh ... jeezus christ. Sherlock, we are in the wrong place for you to prove that to me and besides, it doesn't matter. I told you ... we're fine. It's all fine. There's no need for all this."

  
"It does matter and we're in the perfect place. Tell me why that didn't count."

  
John took a breath, looked at the ceiling and then back at Sherlock. "Well, you are gay, right?"

  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "So I have a purely homosexual kink. You obviously have something to base this scientific deduction on, I'm sure. Please enlighten me."

  
"Sherlock. Seriously, not here. Really, not here. We'll go home and talk about it if you want. We don't have to, but apparently you want to, so lets go home."

  
In a flury, Sherlock was whisked away with John trailing behind. Clothing was removed, xrays taken, morphine was given, labs drawn until finally the two were the only ones left in the room besides the handsome young doctor.

  
"We're going to go ahead and remove the neck brace and roll you off of the back board and then I'llgive you a good once over and stitch you up. Sound okay?" The doctor asked.

  
"Yes, thank you, Doctor." Once he was off of the dreadful board, Dr Humphrey adjusted the head of the gurney and Sherlock was able to see the entire room. John furrowed his brow when he noticed Sherlock had a look of challenge on his face. He knew Sherlock and he knew this was definitely going to be a bit not good.

  
Dr. Humphrey finished examining Sherlock and then turned toward John. "I'll have to expose him a bit in order to do the stitching. You might want to step out for this."

  
"Oh no, John has seen me naked many times. He can stay." Sherlock announced loud enough for everyone in the department to hear.

  
"Jeezus christ, Sherlock." John straightened his posture, lifted his head and puffed his chest. "Yep, loads of times. Many many sorts of time I've seen him naked. Doesn't bother me a bit."

  
Dr. Humphrey looked at Sherlock and then at John again. "Right. Got it," and proceeded to treat Sherlock's wound. "I'm going to put some morphine into your IV. Do you have someone to look after you at home tonight? I don't want to send you home with this stuff in your system if you live alone. I could admit you for observation for the night." The doctor pushed the medication into Sherlock's IV.

  
"John and I live together," Sherlock helpfully explained.

  
John let out a long sigh.

  
"Bully for you, mate," the doctor said.

  
"Oh, nononono ... John's not gay. Right John? Do not, under any circumstances confuse him with being attracted to men. He just won't stand for it. Right John?"

  
"He's my flatmate," John explained and apparently we're having a bit of a row. Sorry about all this."

  
"Yes, John is just my flatmate and my doctor. Not my boyfriend. Don't confuse him with my boyfriend at all," Sherlock slurred. "We should probably have that announced overhead, just to be on the safe side."

  
John produced his NHS ID card. "I am his doctor. I would be happy to finish him up and take him home if you'd like." John looked at Sherlock who was snoring softly.

  
Dr. Humphrey gave John's card a good looking at. "Where do you work?"

  
"I'm a GP in Westminster, near Regent's Park."

  
"You can do stitches?"

  
"I was a combat physician in Kandahaar before this job."

  
Dr. Humphrey nodded approvingly. "It's a bit irregular, but," he snapped his gloves off, "all right. I have another trauma coming in any minute and it doesn't look like he'll notice the difference," he motioned toward Sherlock.

  
"Probably not." John agreed.

  
"I'll leave you to it then." Dr Humphrey left John with the supplies he would need as another gurney was wheeled in through the ambulance bay.

 

 

  
John was sipping his morning tea when he finally heard Sherlock moving about in his room. He moved toward him quickly before Sherlock did something to knock his stitches loose.

  
"Good morning, sunshine," John said too loudly.

  
"Good God, get that smile off of your face. It is way too loud." Sherlock tried to move out of bed but it seemed as though his limbs were not working properly. "I'm completely naked. Why in the hell am I naked?"

  
"That was your doing. I'm pretty sure that was the reason Mycroft left though."

  
"Mycroft?!"

  
"Yep."

  
"Didn't you text him?"

  
"Yep, but he showed up just as we were leaving and had his driver bring us home."

  
"Ow, shit!" Sherlock went to grab at the source of pain in his thigh and then remembered what he had said yesterday in A&E. He face-palmed and shook his head. "They gave me morphine."

  
"Yes. Lots of it."

  
"John, I ... I,"

  
"It's fine. No harm done."

  
"Except that I ..."

  
"Like I said no harm done. We're fine."

  
Sherlock nodded in response.

  
"Except, I just don't understand the point of it all. I ended up stitching you up anyway which I could have done just as well here."

  
Sherlock sighed resignedly. "Can I shower with this?" he motioned toward his thigh.

  
John crossed his arms, saying nothing for a moment. Apparently Sherlock was going to be just as forthcoming with answers today as he was yesterday. Fine. "Yes," he moved toward Sherlock and pulled back the blanket. "I'll take off the dressing and you can shower. I need to check the stitches anyway." He pulled back the tape as gently as he could trying not to remove all of Sherlock's leg hair. He winced in sympathy as he felt it pull the hair out no matter how careful he tried to be. Finally he just ripped it off, better to get it over with. "Sorry."

  
Sherlock nodded curtly, biting his lip.

  
John assessed the area, noted the stitches were still well placed, the skin knitting back together nicely, no increased bruising to the area and then he noticed Sherlock's penis becoming thicker and thicker by the second. It was hard to miss. It had been laying there lazily on Sherlock's thigh just a couple inches away from the wound. John looked up toward Sherlock's face, surprise evident.

  
Sherlock grabbed his sheet quickly and made a hasty retreat to the bathroom.

  
"Oh my God, I'm an idiot." John told himself


	2. Chapter 2

John sat on Sherlock’s bed for a moment trying to figure out what he had witnessed over the months previous and why he drew up to the conclusion that he did instead of what was now quite obvious.  _‘When you see hoof prints, why the hell do you think it’s zebras instead of just horses, stupid,_ ’ John thought to himself. 

About the time John concluded that he really, very much needed to talk with Sherlock, he heard the shower start.  He supposed he could go into the bathroom while he was in the shower, God knows he’d entered the bathroom to shave or take a piss during Sherlock’s showers and vice versa over the months to think that was fine, but he thought, given how fast Sherlock had high-tailed it away from John, Sherlock might not appreciate the intrusion at the moment.  Best to give him a minute to process.  But, John also thought Sherlock was probably freaking out a bit too.  ‘ _He probably thinks I’m going to think it’s disgusting… that he’s disgusting._ ’  John stood, paced anxiously in Sherlock’s room and out into the hallway.  He stood at the bathroom door, held his had up, ready to knock and then huffed and paced down the hall again.  John thought about what Sherlock had said to that A&E doctor the night before about John protesting that he wasn’t gay to anyone who would listen.  ‘ _Oh Jeez, I’m stupid.’_   He hadn’t meant it to be insulting to Sherlock.  He knew there were Yarders and neighbors and Mrs. Hudson who thought that they were a couple and even though he never voiced it, he thought that was flattering.  He knew Sherlock didn’t care about correcting them but that was because he was mostly oblivious to such trivialities.  Or that’s what John had thought.  He’d taken it upon himself to defend Sherlock’s honor, not to protest that John would be with him in that way. 

John went into the living room and sat in his chair.  He thought about what he was going to tell Sherlock.  What was he going to tell Sherlock?  After all the protestations about his own sexuality, now that he knew Sherlock fancied him he was magically gay too?  Sherlock wouldn’t buy that for one hot second.  John was bisexual though, always had been.  He found women easier to date.  A lot less funny looks, nobody calling him a bloody poof.  He hated that.  But for Sherlock?  That was not even close to being a barrier.  He adored Sherlock as his best friend and adding being his lover to the mix, God yes!  He didn’t care if he had to defend himself and Sherlock to the entire world one bigoted idiot at a time, Sherlock was worth it. 

Finally, John heard the shower turn off.  He thought he would give him some time to get dressed, put his ‘armor’ on.  It would probably make Sherlock much more comfortable to have clothes on for this conversation.  He waited for his friend to come out.  When several minutes went by, John walked down the hall and knocked.

“Sherlock?”  When no response followed, John asked, “I’ll bandage that up for you.”

“I think I can manage gauze and tape, thank you.”

“Sherlock, I think we should talk.”  Did that sound too nervous?  Sherlock might think he sounded like talking was a chore that had to be done. 

Again, no response.

“I think I came to some incorrect deductions … and I … I thought we could talk about that.  What it means … and .. could you just come out of there.  I hate talking to you with a bloody door between us.”

Instead of an answer John heard a very loud rendition of Bach symphony No. 3 played by the London Philharmonic Orchestra from Sherlock’s play list. He checked the door, it was locked.  He slapped it in frustration. John pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath.  Obviously Sherlock had no intention of talking right now.  Unfortunately he also knew that when Sherlock locked himself in his room, sometimes he stayed there for days barring a phone call from Lestrade and a locked-room murder. 

 

 

Hours later John finally heard the music from Sherlock’s room stop followed shortly thereafter by the man himself striding steadfastly down the hall in full dress.  He stopped for a second to grab his coat. 

“Is there a case?”  John asked, but was ignored as Sherlock fled down the stairs and out the front door. 

“Really?”  John said to absolutely nobody.  “Fine.  Be a childish little prick.”  He picked up his phone and started texting Lestrade. 

**_What’s the address to this one? JW_ **

**_Ha!  Did his majesty leave without you again?  You need to start keeping your shoes on at all times.  2256 Barrington Rd.  It’s ugly John.  GL_ **

If Sherlock was going to be a brat and essentially stick his fingers in his ears every time John tried to talk to him, well John wasn’t about to be railroaded out of Sherlock’s life. 

 

 

Sherlock looked like he was surprised when John showed up at the crime scene but treated him as he normally would at one.  They fell into exactly what they always had been and John didn’t address their personal issues.  It was too much for Sherlock to deal with when he also had to catch a psychopath rapist and murderer.  He didn’t want a moment of distraction.  John would be Sherlock’s partner/assistant and ‘conductor of light’ or whatever Sherlock needed until the case was complete. 

Several days and two more victims later, Sherlock had finally found the culprit and helped apprehend the man and put him behind bars with solid evidence backing up the case.  Finally, they were in a cab on the way back to Baker Street. 

“I’ll be taking your stitches out when we get home.  Not you, not Mycroft or bloody Anthea.  I’m doing it.”

Sherlock rested his head against the window and sighed.  “Fine.” 

Once inside, Sherlock hung his coat and headed toward his room.  “Give me five minutes and then you can come in.”

“All right.” 

John spent the five minutes making tea and brought in a fresh cup for Sherlock when he knocked and entered the room with his suture removal kit as well.  Sherlock was still dressed in his button-down shirt and socks but had taken his trousers off.  Either he took off his pants or his pants leg was hiked up to the crease of his groin.  John couldn’t tell because he was covered in a blanket from his chest to his knees with the blanket moved aside just enough for John to access the wound. 

John set the tea down on the bedside table.  “That’s for you.”

“Thank you.” 

John pulled up a chair and sat at the bedside pulling out the tiny scissors and tweezer.  Sherlock had already taken the bandage off.  John got to work pulling the sutures out.  “You know that I’m not ignoring it … us… this whatever between us,” John stammered.

“Obviously.”

John nodded his head once.  “Right, well.  It would seem that I did come to some incorrect deductions.”

“How unusual for you.”

John snickered.  “Do you mind if I go through it with you?”

“It would seem I am your captive audience.”  Sherlock motioned toward his leg being worked on by John. 

“When we first met,” John continued, “I did come on to you.  You let me down in no uncertain terms.  You were ‘married to your work’ and over the several months that I’ve lived here I’ve never seen evidence that you were … well, that you were ever into that sort of thing.”  John looked up at Sherlock who had a distinctly neutral facial expression.  Not getting any insight into whether or not that assumption was correct, John kept on.  “It really did seem you were married to your work.  The cases were more important than eating, hell, going to the bathroom and breathing seemed like a nuisance to you so I stopped myself thinking about it.  About your sexuality at all.  You were just different like that.”

“Abnormal you mean.” 

“No.  No, I did not say you were abnormal.  Don’t put words in my mouth, Sherlock,” he pointed the tweezers at him, “that is not what I meant at all.” 

Sherlock nodded.

John continued working on the sutures.  “I mean that most people identify sexually somehow and sex plays a somewhat prominent role in their lives.  Some more than others but you haven’t really expressed yourself in that way, at least that I’ve noticed.  I had come to the conclusion that you were asexual, which is, of course fine, but that thought had changed when you … during your physical.  I had then concluded that you must have a medical kink and that at some point you must have explored that with someone, which, again, is fine.  I had been around you for months at that point and was not under the impression you had any … of those, types of feelings for me.  Why would I?  I assumed you just had this particular kink and I just happened to be there to witness it because if it was me, the physical exam, causing it, surely I would have noticed you acting differently around the flat and you, being you would have certainly let on about something like that.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you’re not exactly the type to keep things to yourself.  You make your opinion known about everything all the time.”

Sherlock looked sheepish.  “I posted a blog entry on seventy-eight different shades of blonde hair.”

John laughed.  “Was that you coming on to me?”

Sherlock looked away and shrugged. 

Smiling, John said, “Oh, we are definitely going to have to work on your moves, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock moaned and then seemingly stopped himself as though the sound had escaped without his permission. 

John grinned and continued.  “Every time I examined you, the same issue, yet nothing in normal day-to-day living.”  John pulled the last stitch out and wiped off any errant pieces of dead skin around the area.  “Oh that does look nice, if I do say so myself.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat up, wrapping the blanket around himself.  John handed him his tea and they sat face-to-face. 

“So, of course my deductions were based purely on what I had seen.”

“Seen and not observed, you mean.”

“What didn’t I observe then?”

“I am here when you come home from work, I make an effort to be nice to you,” at John’s look the clearly conveyed ‘really?’ he continued, “well, I have stopped calling you an idiot.  Directly to you at any rate.”  Sherlock put his tea down.  “At any rate, my … issue, as you put it came up numerous times other than during medical reasons.  You didn’t notice.  You weren’t meant to so don’t fault yourself for that.  I, of course, would have noticed but few are as observant as I am.”

“Are you calling me an idiot now?”

Sherlock gave a small quirk of a smile.  “I’m not asexual, John.”

“Got that, yeah.”

“I’m demisexual.”

“Not familiar with that one.” 

“I can only become sexually aroused by someone I’m deeply emotionally involved with.”

“Oh.”

“As you can probably ascertain, that level of intimacy is rarely achieved by a sociopath such as myself.”

“You are not a sociopath.”

“Does it matter?  As you say, I have no trouble keeping my opinions and observations to myself.  I come off as rude, crude and arrogant so the list of people staying in my company for any length of time is rather a short one.” 

John nodded.  Fair point.  “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

“Sort of.  In university there was someone.  I had thought I was asexual up until that point as well, but we struck a friendship like I had never known before.  I don’t know why he insisted on spending time together but he did and I discovered, after many months of having his friendship, for the first time in my life, I did have sexual feelings.” 

“How did you feel about that?”

“Releived.  I thought I was finally normal.  Definitely homosexual, but normal with normal sexual feelings that everyone around me talked about.”

“I bet that was overwhelming.”

“A bit.  I was excited.”

“How did that turn out?”

“Not well at all.”  Sherlock took a sip of his tea and kept his gaze toward the floor. 

“Did you date him?”

“No.”

“Did you tell him how you felt?” 

Sherlock looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Sherlock, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.  I’m just trying to get to know you.”

Sherlock spoke softly.  “I told him, I tried to kiss him, he punched me and kicked me out of his home.  I dropped out of university and never saw him again.” 

“Oh, Sherlock.”  Man’s inhumanity to man always astounded John.  Why couldn’t the idiot simply say ‘no, thank you, but we can still be friends’?  This moment probably defined who Sherlock became and why he never let anyone else in afterwards. 

Until John came around.   

“It was my fault.  I was a bit overwhelmed with this realization.  I’m afraid I came on rather strong.”  Sherlock shrugged.  “Lesson learned and all that nonsense.” 

“Okay.  That explains why you didn’t let on that your feeling had changed especially after I had protested so much about not being gay.”

Sherlock nodded.  “Correct.”

“I am bisexual, by the way.”

“I know.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because you came onto me that first day, John.  Hardly a leap was it?” 

John shook his head and smiled.  “No, I suppose not.”  John leaned forward a bit.  “I have another question.”

“Go on.”

“You’ve spent days avoiding this conversation, you obviously tried to hide how you felt about me so why would you try so hard to make sure I did eventually come to the right conclusion?”

Sherlock closed his mouth tightly, he looked down and then back up at John.  “I thought you would move out.”

“What?”

“I honestly thought you would move out.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not.”

John huffed.  “Can you go into more detail than that please?” 

“I knew how I felt and that I was never going to move passed it with you still living here.  I thought that I would lead you down the correct path and you would leave and I could … just … get over it.  I was miserable with you here and miserable at the thought of you leaving but knew I could no longer function properly the way things were so … I pushed.”  He took another sip of his tea and set the cup down slowly.  “I was genuinely surprised when you showed up to the crime scene that day.  You never cease to amaze me, John.”  He smiled warmly. 

John smiled back.  This man.  This incredible man.  “Would it surprise you to know that I would rather like to kiss you now?”

“Your face is flush, your pupils dilated and your head is in an upturned position.  It’s quite obvious you would like to kiss.”

John moved forward.  “Oh shut it,” he said with fondness and pressed his lips chastely against Sherlock’s. 

Sherlock deepened the kiss and let out a low moan.  Their tongues slid gently around each other, both of them taking a moment to explore the other.  John pulled away first. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he placed a hand on the side of Sherlock’s neck rubbing his thumb across his cheek.  “Fucking gorgeous.” John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s once more and soon he had a lap full of Sherlock as the other man sat down, legs astride John’s.  “Oh fucking hell … is this all right?”  John had two handfuls of Sherlock’s arse clad only in his tight polka dotted underpants.  John smiled.   

Sherlock didn’t bother breaking the kiss long enough to form words.  A sound vaguely resembling “uh huh” escaped as Sherlock pushed his fingers through John’s hair and rocked into his lap, grinding against him as his bum was pushed and pulled by the firm grip of John’s hands. 

“Jeezus, Sherlock,” John said into the kiss still nipping and finding his way around Sherlock’s mouth.  Kissing was good.  God, so good.  He was momentarily surprised when Sherlock pushed John away for a moment, a sultry look on his face, before John felt his jumper being pulled up and over his head.  Sherlock dove back in enthusiastically at the access to new skin.  He nipped at John’s collar bone and then down further to lick a nipple.  “Jeezus fucking Christ,” John said breathily.  “Are we moving too fast, Sherlock?  Should we … Oh my fucking God.”  John grabbed Sherlock roughly by the arse and stood up tilting them over onto the bed.  Sherlock instantly wrapped his legs around John’s waist and John put one hand above Sherlock’s head to hold himself up and the other, still around Sherlock’s hip, he pulled them together more closely, all the better to grind against each other. 

Sherlock moaned a long low growl making John’s dick all the more engorged. 

“Oh fucking Christ, Sherlock,” John talked against Sherlock’s skin, along his jaw, behind his ear.  “I want you.  I want you so bad.”  He pulled his knees up onto the bed slotting them both together perfectly as they slid against each other, pushing pulling, feeling the heat rising. 

John sat back on his haunches taking the weight off his arms as he kissed along Sherlock’s collar bone and then down his chest as he unbuttoned the shirt, nipping and kissing with each new inch of exposed skin.  Finally he spread the shirt front open and had to sit up and just look at all of the glorious, pale, smooth skin that he had seen before but could never touch.  This deserved some time to appreciate.  He ran his hands along Sherlock’s ribs, across his pectoral muscles, tweaking a nipple along the way as he trailed along the thin line of hair leading down into Sherlock’s pants.  John smirked and hooked his arms behind Sherlock’s knees bringing them up to rest on John’s shoulders.  He pulled off a sock, kissed the arch of the foot and did the same with the other.  He kissed the ankle on his left side and then the shin on his right.  He kissed a knee and then the other watching as Sherlock bit his lip and slowly became unglued. 

When John got to the underpants, he kissed the spot where that glorious line of hair disappeared and looked up at Sherlock seeking permission.  When Sherlock nodded, John hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the posh, silky briefs and dragged them down and off. 

He stood up at the side of the bed and pulled Sherlock’s feet out of the pants.  Once he discarded them he grabbed both of Sherlock’s ankles and gently pulled them apart, placing both on his shoulders once more.  “Beautiful.”  John took in the sight before him.

“I think you’re overdressed.”  Sherlock’s baritone voice went straight to John’s cock once more making him impossibly harder.

“Yeah?” 

Sherlock pulled his legs away from John and brought them down to the floor, sitting up he discarded his own shirt and then placed his hands on John’s hips.  He kissed John’s belly, ran his hands along his sides and finally found John’s belt.  He unfastened it and undid his flies, pushing the denim back and then down.  He smiled up at John when instead of the expected cotton boxers, he found silky boxer briefs. 

“What can I say?  They definitely are more supportive.”

Sherlock didn’t waste time with “I told you.”  Instead he pushed them out of the way and had his first look at John’s erect cock.  He gasped and then wrapped his fingers around it.  John waited patiently as his lover took a moment to explore John.  Sherlock looked sort of like he was picking out fruit, prodding and feeling the weight of it in his hand, squeezing it a bit taking John’s breath away.

“You okay?” John asked when Sherlock seemed to be contemplating something.

“Of course,” Sherlock answered as he pressed his lips to John’s groin continuing to kiss in several spots along the blonde bush of hair at the base of John’s dick. 

“If this is too fast we can stop.”

Sherlock shook his head.  “I think we’ve had a long enough courtship, don’t you?” 

“I just don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you.”

“You’re not.  I want you.”  He kissed the head of John’s penis.  “Very much.”

John placed his hands on either side of Sherlock’s head, not holding, just caressing, running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.  Looking down, he saw Sherlock part that perfect mouth and place John’s cock inside.  He didn’t try to go all the way down or to even see how much he could fit.  He just placed the sensitive head right on his own tongue.  “Oh God!”  John hissed and trembled. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

John’s hips spasmed a couple times, he took in a few shallow breaths and made himself stop from coming directly into Sherlock’s mouth right then and there.  Jeezus it took some effort and not a small amount of images from the anti-spank bank.  “No love.  Nothing wrong at all.”  He bent down and kissed Sherlock softly. “I’m just … I’m desperate to get off at the moment and I don’t want to come that way.”

Sherlock nodded and looked down.  “Right.  Penetration.  I have lubricant and condoms in my top drawer.  Shall I get on my hands and knees?”

John pushed Sherlock backwards onto the bed again, his legs on either side of Sherlock’s.  He rained kisses anywhere his lips landed.  Finally, what Sherlock said sunk into his lust-filled brain.  “What?”

“My research indicates that it is the optimal position for first-time penetration.  Well, me on top sitting astride you is supposedly the best position, but I don’t want to do that if you don’t mind.”  Sherlock was rambling.  “I did some research on condoms and I think I picked out the correct size for your …”

John kissed his mouth to shut him up. He kissed and nipped at Sherlock’s mouth and jaw.  He ran his hands down Sherlock’s chest and then took Sherlock’s cock in his hand, stroking slowly.  Sherlock moaned and tossed his head side to side.  Oh God, that sound.  John’s prick twitched and Sherlock felt that against his thigh.

“You like my voice.”

“Mmm … yeah I do.”  John said as he continued to stroke Sherlock.  He grinded his hips against the man below him.  He smiled.  “You liked it when I called you Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock bit his lip. 

Sherlock was obviously back with the program, kissing John back, running his hands desperately along John’s body.  “Sherlock, have you ever been penetrated before?”

Sherlock hissed and put his hand on John’s, the one that was stroking his cock. 

“You okay?” John asked keeping his hand still underneath Sherlock’s.

“Yes, fine… just …”

“Too close?”

Sherlock nodded.   

John kissed him once more and then pulled back putting some of his weight on his hands.  “Look, there is nothing more that I would like to do then to be inside you if that’s what you want but I don’t think either of us are in a fit state to do that today.  It requires time and patience and I don’t think I’ll last past putting one finger inside your arse.”

Sherlock bit his lip again and squirmed against John’s body.

“When you bite your lip, it makes me want to bite it myself,” John confessed. 

“Really?”  Again, Sherlock brought that perfect bottom lip up and caught it on his top teeth. 

John smiled and kissed Sherlock releasing the lip before taking it between his own teeth and giving it a gentle tug. 

Sherlock laughed. 

“That’s a gorgeous sound.  I want that sound in our bed all the time.”  John continued to kiss Sherlock and Sherlock pulled his hips up desperately wanting more contact.  “I’m going to get the lube.”

“Oh,” Sherlock said nervously. 

“Not for that.”  John leaned over, not even losing complete contact with Sherlock in order to grab the tube.  He put some on his hand, warmed it up and then on Sherlock’s cock, stroking slowly.

“Oh!”  Sherlock pulled one knee up in obvious desperation for leverage with which to push himself into John’s hand. 

John lay half on his side and half on top of Sherlock, stroking and kissing, watching the man writhe beneath him.  Soon the moans and groans and muscle twitches got to John and he was desperate for his own contact.  He put some lubricant on his own cock and then pushed himself up to lay directly on top of Sherlock.  He pushed his legs between Sherlock’s and swept his legs up and to the sides as he brought his own knees up onto the bed once more. 

The cock to cock contact was fucking glorious.  Sherlock gasped and pulled his own knees as far apart as his could all the better to settle John between them more fully.  John grabbed both of Sherlock’s shoulders and started moving up and then down, sliding their cocks alongside each other. 

“Oh, John … that’s … fuck, that’s perfect,” Sherlock said breathily, head slung back, hands on John’s biceps, back arched, knees open, toes curled.  He was a sight of pure wanton lust and the moans, dear God in heaven … jeezus fucking Christ it was bliss.  Absolute bliss. 

It didn’t take long before John felt Sherlock tip over the edge and come all over their stomachs.  Assailed with friction and a litany of lusty breaths and moans coming from his lover, John found his own release. 

Both panted fervently for several moments.  John kissed Sherlock’s mouth and then his forehead.  He collapsed against him, breathing into Sherlock’s neck.  He felt Sherlock rub John’s arm and try to control his breathing once more as well. 

“What d’you think?”

“Mmm,” Sherlock hummed noncommittally. 

“Are you lethargic or did I blow your mind enough that you can’t form words?”

Sherlock turned to face John.  With no room between them, Sherlock kissed John’s nose and pulled back an inch or two.  “Are we supposed to rate each other at this point?  Is there a list of Likert scale questions or will just a 1-10 scale suffice?”

“Berk,” John said fondly and kissed Sherlock’s lips softly before pulling himself up.  “Stay right there.  I’ll be right back.”  John padded his way naked to the bathroom through the adjoining door.  He cleaned himself off then rinsed the flannel and walked back to Sherlock. 

Sherlock hissed at the feel of the warm flannel on his cock and then collapsed back onto the mattress.  “Good that feels … good and odd at the same time.” 

“You’re oversensitive at the moment.  It’ll pass.” John finished cleaning Sherlock’s stomach and tossed the flannel to the floor.  “Let’s get up in this bed properly shall we?”  John pulled at the duvet and slapped Sherlock’s buttock a bit when he lethargically crawled his way up onto the bed with a huff.  They settled with Sherlock tucked under John’s arm, his face on John’s chest. 

“You never cease to amaze me, John,” Sherlock said drowsily into John’s skin before John heard soft snoring. 

John smiled and kissed Sherlock’s head before falling into slumber himself. 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it is done!! Good Lord that took me forever and way too many days of ignoring family, living off of Doritos and grilled cheese and putting off the housework to do it. I would appreciate a comment or two. It really is the only thing that makes sharing my work worthwhile. It is encouraging. At least hit the kudos button if you like it. Thanks and thank you for those who already have left comments and supported my writing even if I am incredibly slow at producing a final product. You're the reason I keep writing. Well, that and it is so fun! Okay, you're the reason I share it. :)


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